Imagine: Being afraid to tell Peter you like him because he and your cousin, Caspian, don’t like each other.

You pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned down to help the wounded man with the cut on his arm. You wrapped it slowly and looked up to see Peter watching you from across the tent, arms crossed over his chest as he smiled.

“You’ve wrapped that wrong,” Susan said, coming up beside you. “Watch.” She showed me how to wrap it and went back to help Lucy string her own bow.

I stand and head over to Peter. “Are you watching me?”

“No, of course not. I admire how gentle you are with the people, we made a good choice in choosing you as our caretaker,” he said, following me out of the tent.

“Please don’t call me a caretaker, it sounds like I’m your babysitter and I really don’t want to be your babysitter,” you said, laughing. His hand brushed across your back and you stood straight, cheeks on fire and hands sweaty from nervousness. “I-I’ve…gotta go! Caspian is waiting for me.

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. “Well, meet me by the cliff later? There’s supposed to be an amazing sunset tonight and no one wants to watch it with me.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and ran off.

Later that evening, after admitting to your cousin that you liked Peter and arguing with him about going to the cliff, you finally convinced him to let you go. You turned around one of the large rocks blocking the view and saw Peter sitting at the edge of the cliff, head tilted as he watched the sky.

“Peter?” you said softly, walking up next to him.

“Oh, hello. It’s just starting,” he nodded at sun which was dipping below the edge of the ocean.

“Wow,” you murmured, sitting next to him.

There was silence for a long time, the sun eventually disappearing behind the ocean. Peter turned to you and slowly crept his hand into your own, holding your fingers in his. “I like you, y/n…Susan said I should do this, I thought she might be wrong but she’s never wrong…”

You giggled, smiling shyly. “She was right this time.”

“I knew it,” he joked, laughing and rolling his head back. “So…do you like me?”

“What a childish thing to say,” his face dropped. “Why would you even have to ask? I’ve been trying to tell you I’ve liked you for months.”

His face filled with relief and he turned your head slightly, kissing your cheek softly and rubbing your arm. “Caspian won’t be happy.”

You shrugged, kissing his cheek like how he had kissed yours. “Caspian doesn’t matter. He’s an old man.”

“He’s our age,” Peter corrected.

“Oh well.”